Winsome
by Adara's Rose
Summary: The tale of Inquisitor Winsome Lavellan, told in snippets and pieces. Pairings, characters, and tags expected to be added later when they apply.
1. Winsome

He grew up beautiful. Long crimson hair, high cheek bones, eyes as blue as the summer sky, lips like the red rose. His voice could charm birds from the trees and his smile steal your heart in a flash. His body was slim and frail and as dainty as a flower. It was tradition in their clan not to name a child until they had reached a certain age and their nature was revealed, and no one had been surprised at the name his parents had chosen for him. He hated it.

He hated being the center of attention. Hated being courted from as young as twelve by males and females of both his own clan and others, to be adored and worshipped and desired.

From a young age he dreamt of ruining his face, of getting mauled by a bear or a wolf or having some tragic accident that would leave him permanently scarred. It was ridiculous of course, the keeper watched him like a hawk and never let him as much as stub his toe.

"You are beautiful" she'd admonish him. "people listen to what you say." but she was wrong. Nobody ever listened to what he had to say: they only expected him to be lovely. The fact that he was reasonably intelligent was insignificant. He would have been equally adored if he had been as dumb as a rock. Sometimes, he honestly didn't know why he bothered learning anything. But at the same time he had a thirst for knowledge that was eating him up inside, a desire so intense it overshadowed everything. A desire to be acknowledge for something else than his beauty. For his voice to be listened to, not only because if the sweet melody that fell from his lips whenever he parted them. But more than that, he ached to be loved for more than his pretty face.

He had no hope of ever having any of it, though. He might be the keeper's apprentice, but nobody ever recognized him as such; all they saw was his appearance. The only one who could even understand a little of what he was feeling was his twin sister, and even she did not fully understand, couldn't understand. She was pretty, but nowhere near his loveliness. Her voice was heard when she spoke; listened to, respected. He was wiser than her, saw more, knew more - and yet whenever he spoke, he was met by indulgent smiles and sooner or later someone calling him lovely. Or worse, they would tell him how fitting his name was.

He hated all of it. That was why he convinced his sister to let him go to conclave instead of her. It was his chance to be something more than lovely, to rise above the name his parents had given him.

To be something more than just Winsome.


	2. Tightrope

Most days Lavellan feels as if he is walking on a tightrope like a performer at the circus, trying to balance between life and death. There are so many people depending on him for their survival the mere thought of it makes him dizzy. Perhaps that is why he has once again found himself here, up on the crumbling wall. The wind is whipping around his ears and on one side is the safety of the courtyard, but on the other is a fall of many feet. If he falls, his body will smash to pieces on the rocks below. So he holds his arms out for balance as he takes the first few steps onto the edge, balancing precariously just there, and he feels alive for the first time in months. This moment is his: no one else depending on him. Only himself dependant on him not loosing his footing. It's not quite a tightrope, but it will do.


	3. Boy

"That does it!" the Inquisitor announced as he slammed his mug down on the table in frustration. "I don't care if we have to trawl the entire Hinterlands with a fine tooth comb, we are tracking down Ashaad's boy!"

"shouldn't be too hard" Solas quipped, "he is one head taller than everyone else and has horns."

"exactly! I bet he could break a templar in half and twist a rebel mage into an impressively intricate knot without pausing for breath." Lavellan finished his drink. "besides, Cole has probably already found him. Right?" he turned to the man in question with a raised eyebrow and had to squint to see the nod mostly hidden behind the brim of Cole's hat.

"He is very sad" he said, "we must help him."

"and we will" Cassandra soothed.

"Solas, pay the tab while Cass and I get Cole out with minimal fuss." Lavellan ordered as he stood up. Cole gave him a hurt look.

"I can walk."

"i know you can, but you still haven't gotten the hang on not stopping six times to help people with their problems." Cole hung his head.

"I like helping" he muttered unhappily.

"And you are wonderful at it" Cassandra hurried to comfort him. Lavellan cut in:

"It's just that people usually goes to the inn to forget their problems, not deal with them." that seemed to be the end of the discussion as Solas headed to the bar and the others went outside. They only had to pull Cole away from a stranger twice, so all in all it was a roaring success.

* * *

The journey to Redcliffe was mostly uneventful: they only ran into one rebel mage (that ended up crying about his mother all over Cole after having failed to set Solas on fire). Well, and two templars that tried to skewer Lavellan. Thankfully they had their secret weapon, Cole, and when they left the templars they were trying desperately to forget the sight of one of them bending the other over a rock formation and... well... as Cassandra put it, "men! rutting beasts, the lot of them!". they also had the fortune to run into a villager who could answer a few questions about Ashaad's boy. Apparently they could not miss him as he was as "tall as a house and as wide as a barn door". Oh, and he had horns. Must not forget the horns. No one was surprised that the Inquisitor hugged the girl in thanks or that she tried to kiss him in response. Or that the Inquisitor was completely bewildered as to why she would want to kiss him. Cassandra swore, for the hundredth time, to set the Inquisitor down soon and explain just how devastating he was and the effect that had on women. And men, to a lesser extent. But for now she satisfied herself with glaring at an utterly useless Solas and making up a wife back in haven before ushering the three men onwards towards their goal.

They had not set one foot in Redcliff village before the rain was on them.

"your timing is, as always, impeccable!" Solas yelled at the Inquisitor as they sprinted towards the nearest Inn.

"oh, shut up and run!" was the eloquent reply.

They scrambled into the inn, trying not to look too drenched as Cassandra got them rooms for the night and food.

"Well" said Lavellan as he wrung his blond hair, water going everywhere, "let's eat and then track down Ashaad."

"i suggest we wait for it to stop raining first."

"yes, Solas, thank you for stating the obvious." the bickering would probably have gone on indefinitely if not for the fact that a man just then entered the inn. Well, to call him a man would be misleading. Really, it was the biggest qunari either of them had ever seen. He hand to hunch over to avoid scratching the ceiling with his horns.

"I'll bet anything" Lavellan said smugly, "that we just found him."


End file.
